


Steve Rogers - Not a Blushing Virgin After All

by Cassy27



Series: Steve Rogers - A Man Full of Surprises! [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: He Is Wrong, Little bit of plot though, M/M, Minor Clint/Bucky on the side, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tony dares to think Steve is a blushing virgin, feelings are involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassy27/pseuds/Cassy27
Summary: “There are days you’re fine, when you’re not a giant asshole, and I actually start to think you’re quite a decent guy, but you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t constantly prove me wrong.” Steve let go of Tony's wrist, as if touching him suddenly disgusted him, maybe even hurt him, and Tony stumbled back, like Steve had punched him right in the throat.When Tony dares to think that Steve is a blushing virgin, Steve doesn't take those words kindly. Then one thing leads to another, secrets are revealed, and Tony finally learns the truth about Steve's not so passive sex-life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, GreenLoki, for being an awesome beta!

No one was paying any attention to the TV. Tony didn’t even know what movie was playing anymore, he only remembered that Clint had picked it and that no one had wanted to see it, but Clint could be a stubborn asshole so he’d persisted – something about his birthday being only three weeks away – and now a stupid movie no one cared about was on. Tony had long since lost the entire plot of the thing, couldn’t care less about some woman trying to find her soulmate by revisiting old flames. No, the only reason he occasionally glanced at the screen was because the hot neighbour Ally would obviously end up with kinda looked like Steve. It was funny and Tony absolutely loved teasing Steve about it.

When a scene came up where the hottie sat on the couch, a guitar in hand, like he wore nothing at all, Steve sent a pillow in Tony’s general direction, hitting him right in the face, shutting him up before he’d said anything in the first place. Thank God Clint’s mouth never stopped running. Something about never having wanted to see Steve in such a position, but now having seen his apparent twin, never being able to burn the image from his mind.

Tony didn’t mind. Throwing the pillow right back at Steve, he enjoyed imagining him sitting in nothing but his underwear on his couch – because this was his couch. Everything here was his, but he was glad to share it with his fellow Avengers. Never before had he had such a large family, all willing to risk their lives for each other. It was a comforting sentiment, yet Tony didn’t make himself any allusions. No matter how close they all were, Clint and Natasha would still be best friends and hide secrets from them. Thor – absent tonight, having gone to Asgard for some diplomatic bore – would always choose Asgard over Earth, and Bruce would forever be a recluse, scared that a certain green monster would take over and kill them all.

And Tony would forever choose Steve over all of them, because Steve was … _Steve_. Knowing that Steve would forever choose Bucky over him stung like hell, made him throw a quick glance at the metal-armed soldier sitting at the far end of the couch, jealous of the fact that Steve would die for him within a heartbeat, which was a fucking insane idea and Tony’s jealously was unfounded, but it was present nonetheless and Tony cursed himself for it. In any case, it didn’t change how he felt about the man. Steve had been his childhood hero, had been the super soldier he’d dreamed of becoming, if only to impress his father. Steve was the man he’d wanted to meet ever since he was old enough to walk and talk, and wanted to fuck ever since he was old enough to understand what sex was.

Someone had said something – probably Clint since his mouth never stopped moving – and Bucky laughed, loud and amiable, drawing Tony from his thoughts. Popcorn was being thrown around and when Bucky reached out to brush some out of Steve’s hair, Tony had to fight the urge to punch him right in the face – only something strange happened then, something he’d seen before, but never really thought about, never sought some special meaning behind. Sitting on the floor, in between Steve’s legs, an arm casually draped over one of his knees, Tony watched Bucky do the same to Clint. Only he didn’t just brush it out of his hair. With his metallic hand, he picked the popcorn out of his hair and then fed it to him. The way Clint’s lips lingered on the tips of Bucky’s metallic fingers didn’t go unnoticed by him either and all the jealously he’d previously felt flew straight out of the window. Did Steve know?

Bruce was the first to give up and excuse himself. The movie was nearly done, but apparently he couldn’t stomach any more romantic comedy. Tony didn’t blame him. In fact, he secretly admired him and, for one brief moment, he considered doing the same, retreating to his room, but then he felt Steve move behind him, his knee coming to rest against his shoulder, and all thought of getting up vanished. Tony leaned into Steve’s touch. Natasha left when the movie did end, probably because she liked Clint too much to ditch his favourite movie – yeah, that was his favourite movie, much to Tony’s surprise – which meant only four of them remained and the night was still young. None of them had any plans yet to end the day this early.

“Who picks the next one?” Bucky asked.

“I know a great–”

“Shut up, Clint.” Tony shifted, just enough so he could look at Steve, but not enough as to lose physical contact. It was silly, like he was some teenager with an innocent crush, but then he remembered the way Clint’s lips had lingered on Bucky’s metallic fingers, and fuck them. If they could forgo subtlety, so could he. “Hand me the remote,” and to his surprise, Clint actually did.

The first ten channels offered nothing of interest – no surprise there since it was already after midnight. There was a rerun of an old baseball game on which Steve showed interest in, but Tony didn’t plan on falling asleep within the next ten minutes, so he quickly flipped the channel, only for his thumb to pause, suddenly unable to hit the button again, because on the TV screen, the giant, full HD screen, was Maggie Gyllenhaal bent over a desk, ass bare, in front of James Spader. Tony stared at the screen, at the familiar scene unfolding in front of them, because he’d seen that movie before, back when it first came out, and now he was watching it with Steve? It was both surreal and frightening, because Steve was … Steve was born in nineteen twenty, in a world where this kind of porn was non-existent – or so he assumed. In a world that shaped him to be prissy, because Captain Steve Rogers would never watch a movie like this, probably thought it tasteless and perverse.

“Uhm, sorry, Steve, I’ll move the channel.”

“What?” There was a sharp edge to Steve’s voice as he uttered that one short word, sharp enough to cause Tony to turn his head and look at him. His blue eyes stood wide and dark, shielded, and Tony realised he’d screwed up. “Why are you apologizing to me? Why just me?”

“No reason, sorry, let me just–” Before he had the chance to say anything else, before he could actually switch the channel, Steve snatched the remote from his hand and threateningly pointed it his direction, right in front of his face.

“No, I want to know what you mean by that.” Steve prodded Tony’s shoulder with the remote. “You think I’d faint? That a movie like that–” He nodded at the screen which now showed James Spader jerking off as he stood over Gyllenhaal, “–would have me blush and squirm in discomfort?”

Tony’s eyes momentarily darted toward Clint and Bucky, as if they’d come to his rescue, but they were actually assholes, so they simply looked at him and smirked – fucking smirked! – as they watched him struggle to make things right. Where was Bruce when you needed him? “I clearly offended you,” He said, focusing on Steve again, wishing he could turn back time and not make that giant stupid mistake again.

“You think me prude.” Steve folded his legs underneath his body, pulling them away from Tony, and crossed his arms before his chest. Tony hated that he was still holding the remote, making it unable for him to actually change the channel! “Do you have any other preconceptions about me?”

“So you’re not prude,” Tony said, defiantly locking gazes with Steve, “You don’t mind watching Secretary with us, watching Maggie get herself off in a bathroom stall?” Which was exactly what was happening on screen right now.

“I really don’t mind,” Steve replied and, as if he needed to add weight to his words, he looked at the screen and upped the sound. The heavy breathing that filled the room next was rather awkward, which surprised Tony and made him think _he_ was the prude one, except that those sounds, combined with Steve’s ferocious stubbornness actually turned him on, which was really bad timing, because not only was Steve pissed off, Clint and Bucky were still with them, too.

“Well, this has become … torturous,” Clint muttered, eyes down.

“Blame Tony,” Bucky snorted, “I don’t know why he ever thought Steve to be prude.”

“Well, we don’t all know him like you do,” Tony snapped angrily and stood, having had enough of this day and wanting it to end. Which sucked, because he hadn’t wanted it to end ten minutes ago. This was all Maggie’s fault. Tony cursed the movie and never wished to see it again. “Enjoy Secretary,” He snapped at Steve and walked around the couch, only for a strong hand to grab hold of his wrist, disallowing him to leave.

Steve looked up at him with impossibly blue eyes. “You’re angry,” He said and, gosh, well observed, dipshit, “I don’t see how you have any right to be upset when you’re the one who has offended me.”

“I apologized.”

“You didn’t, actually,” Clint chimed in.

Tony tried to murder arrow-dick with just a look, but all Clint did in return was broaden his smirk and shrug his shoulders in a what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it way. The asshole. “Fine, I’m sorry I thought you to be a blushing virgin.” Wrong fucking choice of words. Tony groaned when Steve’s grip on his wrist tightened to the point where he thought his bone would snap and shatter into a dozen little pieces.

“Maybe we should leave,” Clint offered.

“And miss the fireworks?” Bucky shook his head, bottom lip drawn between his teeth. “No way. I want to see Steve destroy him.”

“There are days you’re fine, when you’re not a giant asshole, and I actually start to think you’re quite a decent guy, but you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t constantly prove me wrong.” Steve let go of his wrist, as if touching him suddenly disgusted him, maybe even hurt him, and Tony stumbled back, like Steve had punched him right in the throat. “I’ll have you know that I’m not a prude, that I’m not a blushing virgin, that I’m not even ashamed to admit I watch porn and like it.”

“Yeah, you should see his browser history,” Bucky said, the tone of his voice so casual that it had Tony’s eyebrows shot up. Still, it didn’t erase the lump in his throat, because he’d offended Steve, hurt his feelings, which really did make him a giant douche. Who the hell would dare to offend Captain America, the most decent guy on the planet? The most decent guy on the planet who apparently enjoyed watching porn. Like every other human being. Steve wasn’t so different from the rest of them.

“Yeah,” Clint grinned, “You should hear him talk dirty.”

That really did grind all of Tony’s gears, mind coming to a halt, brains crashing against the inside of his skull, obliterating all logic thought, because. What. The. Hell? Apparently, he wasn’t the only one whose entire consciousness had crashed, because Bucky was staring at Clint, too, with wide pale blue eyes and lips parted in shock. He even looked a shade paler than a second before.

“What, you guys didn’t know?”

Steve pressed a hand against his face, groaning. “How the hell could they know, Clint?”

“Well, you were pretty loud.” Clint was fidgeting now, hands playing with the hem of his shirt, eyes darting in every direction without ever really landing on anything. Tony would have loved to see him squirm like this before, but now … now he only wanted him to shut up and he’d force him to shut up using violence if he had to, because these weren’t the sort of stories he wanted to hear about Steven Grant Rogers. “Besides, I told Natasha and I just assumed she told Tony. She can’t actually keep a secret, you know.”

“Yes, she can, apparently,” Tony gritted out.

Bucky sucked in a long, deep breath, head nodded, as if he was contemplating a difficult but meaningful message. Then, “Can we turn off that stupid movie?”

“So, when did this happen?” Tony couldn’t help but ask. Why did he want to know? Because he liked to torture himself. And because the image of Steve writhing beneath Clint was already burned on his cornea so why not add some acid to it? He always did enjoy torturing himself.

Steve turned off the TV. “It was just one night, over a year ago. We’d had too much to drink and one thing led to another and–” He shut up suddenly, lips tightly pressed together for one long second. “And why am I explaining myself? It’s none of anyone’s business.”

“You’re right.” Tony stepped back and cleared his throat, because Steve _was_ actually right, no matter how much he hated it. “Of course you can fuck whoever you like, or be fucked by whoever you like. I don’t know why I ever thought you to be prude in the first place. You grew up with Bucky back in the thirties. You joined the army together, sort of. We all know what happens in those tents, no women around. I was a bonehead for thinking you never experimented. Hell, everyone knows you loved Peggy Carter!”

It was a low blow – well, not really a blow, he hadn’t meant it as such, but bringing up Peggy Carter, Steve’s first love, perhaps even his only love, that was kinda crude. And Steve thought the same, because his face scrunched together, a hurt, offended look in his eyes. The remote control actually shattered between his fingers.

“I’ll see you all in the morning,” Tony’s attention shifted from Steve to Bucky to Clint and back to Steve, “Or not.”

There was only silence as he stalked out of the room, silence interrupted by his heavy footsteps. None of this would have happened if Bruce had not left him. None of this would have happened if Natasha had not left him. They would never have allowed things to get so far, to get so out of hand, never have allowed Tony to be such a complete imbecile. They would have called him out on his shit or just have told him to shut up. And he would have, because Natasha frightened him and Bruce was his friend.

Entering his private room, Tony slammed the door shut behind him before he came to a standstill, suddenly unable to think, unable to move. He’d screwed up, that much was clear, and he might not be able to mend things. Did he want to? Maybe. Definitely. Maybe. Steve was still Steve. He could actually be an arrogant dick at times, despite what the media said – Saint Steve Rogers – but he was also Tony’s teenage crush and he’d thought of him a million times already when he lay in bed, jerking off. He also thought of him when people got married and had babies. Ridiculous, he knew.

“Jarvis?” He had yet to move. “Steve and Clint, when did that happen?”

_“October nineteenth, two thousand fifteen.”_

A year ago. So Steve hadn’t lied to spare him. Though why would Steve bother to spare him? Because Tony liked to believe Steve would never intentionally want to hurt him. Like he would never intentionally hurt him, but that didn’t mean he never did. That point had been proven tonight.

“Where?”

_“Sir–”_

“Where, dammit!”

_“In the kitchen.”_

That kinky son of a bitch. Tony was beginning to believe that he’d never known Steve at all. Clint, sure. He imagined Clint had done it in every fucking room in this building, probably with Bucky considering the way they touched each other tonight, but Steve? Tony had always envisioned Steve to be the kind of guy who only had sex in a bed, missionary style, and who cleaned up right after. Steve having sex in the kitchen? With Clint? He didn’t know Steve at all, it seemed.

Still pissed – at Steve, at Clint, at Bucky, at himself – he kicked off his shoes and undressed himself. He needed sleep, lots of it, so he could forget this whole mess and wake up in the morning with a massive headache. He deserved it. And after he’d have had his breakfast – which would probably consist of whiskey and nothing more – he might gather enough courage to try and apologize, decently, to Steve, to try and express how he felt about tonight, that he’d never meant to hurt him the way he did. Would Steve apologize in return?

Dressed in nothing but pyjama bottoms, Tony made his way to the king-sized bed and snorted at the thought flitting through his mind. Steve apologize? The saintly son of a bitch – no offense, Sarah – probably didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, was probably already sulking in his own personal rooms, cursing Tony and plotting some sort of accident that would have Tony kicked out of the team. Yeah, that was a bit much. No matter how angry he was with the guy, Tony still thought him too big of a person to fill his head with such ideas.

He was just about to crawl into bed when there came a knock to his door, hard enough to draw his attention, but soft enough to reveal that no angry person stood behind the door. So not Steve. Maybe Bruce had heard the slamming of his door and came to see what had happened. Shit. Not in the mood for a lecture on good manners, Tony turned, parting his lips to ask Bruce to leave, when a soft voice said his name.

“Tony?”

_Steve._

Why the hell was he here? To continue their fight? To turn it into a screaming match – because that was what Tony wanted to do, scream and shout and get rid of all the frustration currently bubbling right underneath the surface of his skin. It made his fingers itch to grab hold of something and smash it into a thousand little pieces. Why did he feel the way he did? Honestly, he didn’t know.

“I know you’re there, Tony, I know you’re awake.” Steve’s voice didn’t betray any anger anymore, on the contrary, which made Tony’s frustrations disappear instantly, because Steve was the one guy in this entire universe Tony could forgive within a heartbeat. Only there was nothing to forgive, which confused him, because if Steve had come to apologize … He needed to apologize, too, for the mean words he’d said, but he wasn’t sure he could, wasn’t even sure he actually regretted them. Steve sleeping with Clint, if only for one night, it did something to him. Why did it feel as if Steve had plunged a knife in his chest?

“Tony.” There was a soft thud, as if Steve had pressed his head against the wood of the door, and Tony liked to imagine that his eyes had fluttered shut. He also liked to imagine that he wore nothing but pyjama bottoms, too, chest and feet bare, the muscles of his arms swelling with – no, stop it, brain! “I was thinking and …” Steve hesitated, but Tony willed him to move on, wanting – no, needing to hear what he had to say. “I didn’t know why I was so upset by what you said, but now I do. The thought that you think me a blushing virgin, it frustrates me, because … Well, that’s not how I want you to see me.”

Opening the door – he wasn’t actually that big of an asshole to leave Steve standing outside – he instantly locked gazes with the man and found himself swallowing heavily. Half of his wish had come true, Steve standing before him wearing pyjama bottoms and standing bare feet, but he also wore a white T-shirt that was definitely a size too small and revealed every line and curve of his upper body. Was this another way of torturing him? Because if it was, then it was definitely working. Clearing his throat, Tony reminded himself of the fact that he should probably say something. Anything.

“I didn’t actually think you’d never … you know.” He could really be an idiot when it came to words. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said what I said. And like you said, none of it is any my business anyway.”

“I slept with Clint,” Steve said. Tony’s hand slipped from the doorknob, because if he kept hold of it, he might actually slam the door shut again, right in Steve’s face. And then there was the need to distance himself from the Captain, because those four words felt like a physical shove back, as if they meant to throw him down and stomp him in his stomach. “Why does that upset you?”

“It doesn’t upset me.” He could usually lie much better than this.

“You’re turning red in the face as we speak.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re pissing me off.” Tony turned around, unable to look at Steve for a second longer, knowing that Steve could see straight through him. It bugged him more than it should. Walking toward his own private mini-bar, he grabbed a glass and filled it with alcohol, the need for a drink causing his hands to shake, which was probably an indication that he shouldn’t drink at all, but fuck everything.

“I know you better than you think,” Steve said after a short pause.

Tony’s fingers tightened their hold on the glass. It was already half empty, the whisky burning a way down his throat. _I know you better than you think._ Fucking fantastic. Tony hadn’t thought he’d become obvious, that his emotions lay bare on his sleeve. If that was the case, he really needed to do something about it. He could ask Natasha for help. No one ever had any clue as to what was going on with her, what she was thinking or feeling.

“If you know me so well, then why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

 “You hate that I slept with Clint.”

“Like I said before, none of my business.” Tony chucked down the rest of his drink and cleared his throat before turning back to look at Steve, to see his bright blue eyes locked on him, not a thread of mockery on his face, only dead seriousness. And caution.

“I shouldn’t have slept with him at all.”

“Honestly, Rogers, your business is you–”

“Because I should have slept with you, right?”

It was a trap. If he said no, then he admitted that he was upset for no reason, that he was actually just being an ass. If he said yes, then he revealed what he really wanted. _What he really wanted_. Shit, was this what he wanted? The truth – the complete, avowed truth – was that he didn’t want to sleep with Steve. Well, he did, but that wasn’t all he wanted. That was when it hit him. “I’m not jealous of Clint,” He said, which clearly surprised Steve, had his eyes widen and a frown crease his brow. It seemed the answer disappointed him and _huh_ , would you look at that? “He’s your friend, right? Nothing more than that, cause clearly Clint’s interests lay elsewhere.”

Steve’s gaze fell to the floor. “I’ve noticed.”

Steve _was_ jealous – jealous of what Clint had with Bucky, jealous that he didn’t have the same with him. Breath trapped inside his chest, Tony set down his glass and took a step toward the man. Then he waited until Steve looked back up at him, from underneath thick eyelashes. At moments like these, it was easy to forget he was born in nineteen twenty. It was easy to forget he was Captain America. No, before him stood nothing more than a young guy on the verge of getting what he wanted, but too shy to actually go for it.

So Tony would help him out, because he was neither so young nor so shy. “What is it you really want, Steve?”

“For you to kiss me already, dammit,” Steve breathed.

And Tony did. Hands grasping the hem of Steve’s T-shirt, Tony pulled the younger – older – man close and pressed their lips together. The kiss was full of heat and passion and damn human’s need for air, because it broke them apart much too soon. Breathing heavily, their mouths remained close to one another’s while Steve’s hands slipped down Tony’s bare chest, across the arc-reactor that cast the features of their faces into a soft blue glow and down his abdomen. A shiver ran down his spine when Steve’s hands slipped across his hips and settled there.

Tony’s eyes fluttered shut in a desperate attempt to calm his mind, to fully, completely understand what had just happened. He’d kissed Steve, actually kissed him, and it had felt right. It had felt perfect, and he wanted more. Breath still caught inside his lungs, he kissed Steve again and marvelled at the feeling of Steve’s tongue slipping into his mouth, desperately exploring and _wanting_. No matter how hot Steve looked in the white T-shirt, it needed to go. Tony pulled it over his head, hating that they needed to break apart their kiss once again, but then he saw Steve’s tussled hair and couldn’t help but smile. What a picture he was. Hair a mess, lips red and swollen, cheeks blushing. His chest quickly moved up and down, breathing heavily, and Tony could barely believe that he’d done that to him.

“Steve?” Oh, how he wanted to kiss every inch of that glorious body! “Oh, God, Steve, can I–” He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because Steve kicked shut the door behind him and all but tackled Tony as he pushed him toward the bed. They fell down on top of it and Tony instantly arched into Steve’s mouth as he sank his teeth into his collarbone. “Ah, fuck, you’re driving me mad.”

“Then you know how I feel.” Steve hovered above Tony and, after capturing his lips again, he kissed a path down Tony’s chest and, _damn_ , this shit should be illegal. Was Steve really doing this? Was he actually putting a nipple into his mouth to gently suck at it and bite it? Yes, he most definitely was, and Tony felt his dick grow hard. The truth was that he’d never thought Steve to be a blushing virgin, but he’d certainly never thought him to be this skilled either. “Let me blow you, Tony,” Steve muttered against the skin of his stomach, and _fuck_ , Tony thought he was about to come right in his pants.

“Yes, please,” he breathed as he focused on the feeling of Steve’s lips trailing further down. Warm hands pushed down his pyjama pants and freed his cock which lay hard and heavy against his thigh, already leaking pre-come. He wanted to tell Steve he wasn’t usually so desperate, so close to an orgasm after mere seconds of foreplay, that this was actually all Steve’s fault for helping him live a years-old teenage dream, but all words died in his throat when he felt Steve’s tongue lick at the tip of his cock, lapping at the pre-come gathering there.

His hands twisted into the sheets beneath him. Tony didn’t want to know how he looked like, how desperate and wanton he must seem. The only image he wanted in his head was that of Steve taking him into his mouth and sucking, cheeks hollowing while his tongue traced a throbbing vein on the underside of his cock. “You’re really good at that,” He forced out while trying to hold off a climax, because like hell was he going to cut this moment short. On the contrary. He would hold it off all night if he had to, because when Steve moaned around him and looked at him with impossibly blue eyes, Tony wanted to live in this moment forever. “God, the things I want to do to you …”

Steve straightened his back, Tony’s cock slipping from his mouth with an obscenely wet plop. Tony groaned at the loss of warmth and stimulation, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. “What about the things I want to do to you?” Steve asked. He crawled up Tony’s body and straddled him, broad and muscled thighs framing his hips. Tony’s hands instantly sought to touch them and he did, finger tips digging into the sensitive flesh. “I’m going to ride you, Tony, because I’ve been thinking of doing that for so long already. And you’re going to lie beneath me and adore me and beg me.”

 _‘You should hear him talk dirty.’_ Now really wasn’t the time for his mind to flit back to Clint, but that comment echoed in his head anyway, because yeah, hearing Steve say all those dirty words, to turn him on, to excite himself, was really fucking maddening! Tony wanted nothing more than to switch positions and pin Steve beneath him, part his legs and fuck him until he couldn’t take any more, but Steve was in control, completely and irrevocably, because Tony was a complete mess and would pretty much do anything Steve told him to do right now. He was fucking worshipping him right now.

“Make me beg then.”

After Steve kissed him again, wild and ferocious, a battle of teeth and tongues, he snatched lube from Tony’s nightstand – thank God he always kept it close! – and began to prepare himself. Seeing him slick his fingers with the translucent substance, watching him reach behind himself and finger himself, one at first, then two, then three, it drove Tony mad, made him want to kiss the man again and again, made him want to sink his teeth into his flesh and mark him as his and his alone. Screw you, Barton!

Once done, Steve carelessly tossed the bottle aside and positioned himself just right. Clearly he knew what he was doing, which completely shattered the notion of Captain America as a blushing virgin. The world should know about this, because this was glorious and stunning – and not for the world to know, Tony quickly decided upon. No, this was just for him to love and treasure. Steve would be his after tonight, just his, like he would be Steve’s, he would make sure of it. He would not screw up. Positioning his cock just right, Steve slowly sank down on it and, really, the sight of his cock disappearing into Steve’s body, the feeling of Steve’s heat and tightness, the sound of his soft moans as his body adjusting to the intrusion, was nearly enough to make him come then and there.

“Fuck, Steve, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” His hands rested upon Steve’s thighs again, nails scratching at the skin now, desperately searching for purchase. His back arched off of the bed and his hips lifted from the bed. “You’re making me the happiest man on earth right now. I’ve dreamed about this for so long already.”

“You have?” Steve finally sat down on Tony’s hips, his cock fully sheathed inside of him. Steve threw his head back, baring his throat, and Tony wished he could kiss him there, but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to cause any discomfort to Steve. No, he wanted him to adjust, to take his time. He’d lie still for half an hour if he had to, he wouldn’t mind, not with a stunning sight like that. Steve’s hands slipped up and down Tony’s chest, their skin hot and sticky. The smell of sex hung heavily in the air. It dazed them. “Tell me about that, Tony.”

“I’ve been dreaming about you ever since I first heard your name.” Tony moaned when Steve began to move his hips, rocking back and forth. “The great Steve Rogers, our hero, the man who made us proud to be American.” Steve’s movements quickly grew erratic, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. Tony couldn’t take his eyes off of him. His skin glistened underneath a thin layer of sweat, his cock rhythmically slapping against his own lower stomach with each movement he made. The head stood red and swollen and Tony reached out to touch it, to take it into his hand and feel its warmth. When he did, when his fingers wrapped around Steve’s girth, stroking him, Steve gasped and quickly focused all of his attention on Tony’s face again, vibrant blue eyes piercing dark brown ones.

“When I was a kid, I jerked off while thinking of you.” Tony had to force out the words, but he wasn’t sure Steve understood them, not as he breathed so hard and heavily. He wasn’t sure Steve even listened. “I never thought I’d actually meet you, but then I did, and I never stopped thinking about you since.” His hand slipped down Steve’s cock to fondle his balls, to feel them draw up as Steve tried to hold off his own orgasm for a little while longer. “You’re one of a kind, Steve, and I fucking love you.”

Steve came, hard, every muscle in his body tensing, nails digging painfully deep into Tony’s shoulders. His ass clenched around Tony’s cock, which finally pushed Tony over the edge, too. Thank God Steve didn’t actually stop moving, but instead fucked them through their orgasms, and _damn_ Steve really did know what he was doing! But there came a point where any stimulation became too much, became too sensitive and eventually hurt, which was when Steve rolled off Tony, falling down beside him, their shoulders brushing together, their legs somehow messily entangled. Tony placed his hand on top of Steve’s stomach, uncaring of the sticky mess he found there, and caressed the warm and soft skin there.

“Did you mean what you said?” Steve asked after a short moment of silence, a moment where they both just caught their breaths and willed their hearts to stop beating so fast – at least, that was what Tony had been doing. That question, however, caught him off guard. He shifted a little, only far enough so he could look at Steve, could look him in the eye and frown. “Yeah, it’s alright.” Steve cast his eyes down.  “A heat of the moment thing.”

It didn’t take long for Tony to catch up and he’d seemingly underestimated Steve’s desires. It all clicked into place. “How long have you been in love with me?”

Steve shifted, too, so he could bury his face against Tony’s arm, to avoid looking at him, so Tony wouldn’t see the deep red blush creeping from his neck to his cheeks.

“I did mean what I said,” Tony smiled and pressed a kiss against the top of Steve’s head. It felt surreal to be able to do this, that he could kiss Steve if he wanted to, that he could touch him, that could say those three words without having to fear the repercussions. “I’ve been in love you ever since I first heard your name, heard who you were and what you did, and I’ve loved you ever since I met you.”

Steve glanced up at him, like a shy boy unsure of what he was supposed to do. How funny it was to see him transform from that confident, assured young man to this. “What took you so long then?” His fingers slipped down Tony’s before they folded them together.

“I didn’t think you looked at me the same way.”

“Oh, Tony.” Steve sighed, blissfully, and placed his head on top of Tony’s chest. Without doubt he could hear and feel the beating of his heart, could feel it swell because of him. “I thought you were supposed to be some kind of genius.”

“Shut up,” Tony snapped back at him, but there lay no heat in his words. How could there? Laying together, still, made Tony abruptly aware of how cold the air was. It shifted across their bodies, causing Tony to shiver. Grabbing hold of the sheets beneath them, he manoeuvred them above them and pulled Steve as close as physically possible. Tonight, he would fall asleep with Steve in his arms. It caused his heart to flutter. “We should have watched Secretary sooner,” He said, eyes already shut, exhaustion crashing into him suddenly. He would soon fall asleep and wake up well-rested tomorrow. He looked forward to it.

He looked forward to waking up and finding Steve at his side even more.


End file.
